Our generation has become so use to temporary feelings, things and people
we aren’t surprised when there isn’t a sequel.
But it’s sad really, how accustomed we’ve become,
detachment has become a rule of thumb.
I don’t want temporary feelings, things or people,
I want to be surrounded by loved ones when I’m standing in that cathedral.
I want forever, like in the storybooks
but it doesn’t have to be a fairytale like with Peter Pan and Hook.
I just want something real,
something that in the depths of my soul, I can feel.
Someone through thick and thin,
there for me when I lose, and when I win.
It won’t be perfect, and definitely not easy
but we’ll have each other, that’s the dose of 'cheesy.'
Our generation is use to temporary feelings, things and people
they don’t expect a sequel.
They’ve come to expect everything to end,
the idea of temporary is the new trend.
And it’s really sad to see,
this generation missing out on so much that could be.

The day that we met, I watched you press a cigarette to your lips and laugh.
I cringed.
How could a paper stick filled with nicotine leaves and other little ingredients
bring a satisfying, calm five minutes?
We talked about how you were trying to stop,
and how I’d never, ever smoke myself,
and how that was a good thing.
We laughed.

Six months later and I haven’t seen your face in over a week.
A month ago, we were lying in your bed talking about how we’d
always love one another and always have each other,
and you pulled out a cigarette.
You reiterated that it calmed you down but I just grimaced.
How could a paper stick filled with nicotine leaves and other little ingredients
bring a satisfying, calm five minutes?
I wanted to ask again, though I know how addiction works.

You can’t really explain it.
All I’m sure of is you always know you could quit one day.
What I don’t know is if you ever really wanted to.

I took a walk to clear my head of the memories of you last night,
to get some fresh air for the first time in over a week.
It was overall ironic because as I tried to forget you,
as I breathed in the fresh Wisconsin air,
I pulled out a cigarette.

I stared at the rolled paper between my fingers,
and I saw your face.
I could smell you through the air,
taste your lips,
and wondered if I could really replace that connection in my head,
if you really should be represented by impending death and
overwhelming scents that never really fade.
I wonder because I know at heart, you were never made of tar,
you’re just sticking to my mind longer than
you ever really intended,
it was just what you were made to do.
I know you were never made to remind others of death,
though I know you wanted to be a few times.
I know you’ve encountered it and
I know you think about it at least twice a week.
You’ve always reminded me more of a sun,
because you’ve always been bright in my mind,
you’ve always been something I looked forward to seeing,
something that warmed my heart just by stepping into my presence,
you remind me of a fresh gasp of breath,
and that’s why I put the cigarette to my lips.

That’s why I lit it.

That’s why I started smoking,
Not to think of you,
Not to try to remember your taste,
Your scent,
But because
if a cigarette became my ten minute escape,
it’d be my go-to,
and you wouldn’t be.
I could get the calm you experienced and not experience you,
I could feel something other than missing you.

When I snuffed out the ****,
I was actually smiling.
I felt free of you,
free of the holds your love brought to me.
For twenty minutes,
I felt complete happiness without thinking about you
for the first time since we met.

So that’s why next time we see one another,
when we do become friends again like we promised
each other that we would,

Next time we meet,
I’ll press a cigarette to my lips,
and I’ll laugh.
We’ll talk about how you were trying to stop,
and how I’d never, ever smoke myself,
and how that promise was temporary,
just like us.

Just like the cigarette.

Desert air
dry and lonely, but not
without a desperation,
blows down tired throats
with kisses, which come
rushing in,
the heat of universal grasping.

It isn’t strange
given common speeches
on hearts eaten
and hearts desired,
recounted with a coldness
born of the same places
as the heat.


But it is strange
the inability to swallow the chafing devils
making sandbags out lungs.
These will not choke the fools
who walk upon them,
even as the one eyed hermit,
whose sand scorched feet
belie his travels, cackles
“Well, at least for now."

A poor historian in imperial ruin
Pieced together histories made from fragments and unpainted marble
——————————————————————————————
“We used to have fun”
“You’ve had too much to think” she says as she takes away keys
——————————————————————————————
Echoes in an empty hall

“Ceremonies?”
“Any movement at all?”

Dust settles in the palms of motionless hands

I have watched the ebb and flow of the Sea
Under the cold glow of distant Galaxies

I have tasted the rush of City lights
And all the Mornings that have come after

I have heard the Heavens move and balter
To the Music of the world underneath

I have seen the many Faces of the night
At the dawn and death of every Day

I have witnessed the Ground give way to life
And the Living given back to the ground

We are as the World that we move in
We are the Bones of the earth; Salt of the sea.

We are an eternity clothed in Transience
No Permanence is ours to hold and keep

The calendar that changes paintings every month
The friendships that pass on to the next life
The house that once stood for home
The filled notebooks, once empty
The prayer that passes through the crack of sadness
Proof that life is not emptiness
Phrases and proverbs that unwrap their meaning
As life happens before my very eyes
My mind is born like a child
Suddenly time is quick
She is opening her eyes
Oh, beautiful infant
So kind so wild
I pray that you will be kind to life
I know you will be treated fairly
Your reality is truly one of your own making
And if you ever find that you have been dealt cards that cut
Do not throw the deck away
Life is but a limited stack
Play with charm
And never cheat
For death is the lover of life
And will gladly take away what you have at stake
Fear nothing of what I say
Truth and pain wake up the senses
Losing one's way is never easy
Just pinch yourself
Bad dreams go away
Eventually

Overcome by debt,
Which my Heavenly Father paid
by hanging with my sins and sorrow
on a rugged cross

I pushed the nails into His hands as passionate, red blood flowed out
and I pulled down the crown of thorns farther into His head with every selfish deed I committed

By my regressions He died,
and when He was gone,
so was a part of me too,
for I was His & made brand new

When the cave could conceal Him no longer,
He rolled the stone aside,
He's alive! He's alive! He's alive!

By strength in him,
my stone started to move,
the sunlight began to appear,
I was dead no longer,
and I was alive in Him

This earth is a car transporting me to a joyous adventure
This place isn't my home
Not now,
not ever

Its a snapshot time in motion.
This time period I had you.
You were mine with no jealousy.
This time that I had you.
You were crystalline and perfect.
Last time that I had you.
I never feared you'd be gone.
Always did i have you.
You were mine night and day
Always did I please you.
mine at nights.
the most did I satisfy you.
You gave in. To me.
The most did I care for you.
You were mine. Past tense.
I had you...